


Happy Birthday, Harry

by FrancesOsgood



Category: Resident Alien (TV 2021)
Genre: Dark Comedy, F/M, Fanservice, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Timeline Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancesOsgood/pseuds/FrancesOsgood
Summary: Asta interrupts "Harry's" television binge with a birthday cake and a quick lesson on human rituals and relationships.
Relationships: Harry Vanderspiegle/Asta Twelvetrees
Comments: 22
Kudos: 52





	Happy Birthday, Harry

Evenings, I have learned, are something of a ritual for humans. After hours of laboring behind computer screens or check-out counters or fast food windows, the humans seem to relish the hours after sunset when they can trudge home, swap their work uniforms for shapeless loungewear and spend time relaxing with the other humans with whom they reside. “Relaxing” seems to be synonymous with consuming food and television programming. It is a known fact that humans need to eat to survive, but I’ve yet to establish whether the consumption of television entertainment is vital to their survival. I would like to study this further, but the humans get more than a little upset when they discover you peeking into their windows. 

I decided to do some research on my own borrowed human physiology by binge-watching what has to be the thirty-seventh incarnation of _Law & Order, _ the one subtitled _Special Victims Unit._ (Seriously, do humans commit so many crimes that they have to categorize them?) Which reminds me, I have got to find my device and rid the Universe of these vermin. 

After one more episode.

Unfortunately, my very serious research was disrupted by someone knocking on my front door. I hoped they would eventually give up and just go away, but they did not. Even after I yelled that no one was home. 

“C’mon Harry, open up. It’s cold out here,” I heard Asta’s voice on the other side of the door. 

It could be worse, I supposed. It could be the mayor’s manic wife again. Or the sheriff. Asta was at least tolerable. In fact, once I annihilate all the humans, I’ll probably miss her most of all. 

I reluctantly pulled myself away from the television and went to the door. Asta was shivering on my front stoop, holding something wrapped in plastic. She smiled when she saw me. 

“Happy birthday!” she said in a sing-songy voice. 

“What?” I asked, confused.

Her smile disappeared. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, that’s what your file said. Sorry, I had to peek. I was curious… you know, since you don’t seem to want to talk about yourself… Anyway, I thought I would come by and wish you a happy birthday since you’re away from home and don’t have family nearby. I had thought about throwing you a little surprise party, but no one else seemed interested. Except D’arcy, who volunteered to jump out of a cake…” 

I listened as the whole speech came tumbling out in one long, disjointed tangle of words.

“Is this going somewhere?” I asked, “Because I’m missing _Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, _and according to the online forums, Benson and Stabler are going to get busy tonight. Whatever that means.” 

Asta looked flustered. “Oh. Right,” she said. “I won’t bother you then, I just…” She lifted up the plastic-wrapped object in her hands and offered it to me. “I brought you a cake.”

I stared at the cake for a moment. I knew from my observations that an offering of food carried some significance for humans. Giving sustenance was a gesture of care. I was confused then by the offering of what was basically a loaf of gluten and sugar. Did she _want_ me to develop diabetes? 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made chocolate,” Asta gushed on. “I figure everyone likes chocolate, right?”

_Screw everyone else. I like chocolate. That’s all that matters._

I didn’t say that out loud. I just took the cake and said thank you. I realized too late then that I was probably expected to invite Asta inside since I had accepted her offering. _Dammit._

“Would you like to come in?” I asked. I hoped she’d decline, but no such luck. 

“Sure, thanks,” she answered, rubbing her hands over her arms. “It’s gotten cold again. I thought maybe we’d see the thaw soon, but perhaps not.”

“No?” I asked as I unwrapped the somewhat lopsided, but still appealing chocolate cake and cut two slices.

“There’s still cold in the air.” There was a mysticism in Asta’s voice, like someone telling a story that begins with “It was a dark and stormy night.” It made a little chill run down my spine. Of course, that could also have been due to the fact that my front door was still open a crack. 

I moved to close it, at the same time handing Asta a slice of the chocolate cake. 

“I hope you don’t mind me coming here like this,” she said. “I just hate the thought of someone being alone on their birthday. That really sucks.”

“I take it you have experience,” I said with a mouthful of cake. 

“Yeah,” answered Asta. “I spent my twenty-fifth birthday with a bag of Cheetos and a bottle of Jack Daniels.” She looked wistful as she shoveled a glob of chocolate into her mouth.

“That sounds nice,” I told her.

“Um, okay…” she said, shaking her head. She set aside her piece of cake and began rummaging through her coat pockets. “I almost forgot,” she told me. “I got you a present.” 

She held out her hand and opened it, revealing a small crystalline stone on a chain. 

“You have that jumble of keys,” Asta began, “I thought maybe you could use a proper keychain.” She grasped the object by the chain and held it up for me to see. “The stone is quartz,” she explained. “It’s a stone to repel negativity. There’s been a lot of bad stuff going on here lately…” She paused, waiting for me to accept the gift. I hesitated, unsure of what it all meant. 

I understood birthdays and the tradition of giving gifts, but I had fallen under the impression that this ritual was reserved for families or very close friends. Had I been mistaken? Did everyone give birthday gifts to everyone else? And if so, how many people did I owe gifts to? Was that why the sheriff was such a pain in the ass to me? I had failed to give him a present on his birthday?

_“No,”_ I decided. _“He’s just a dick.”_

“Are you going to take this?” Asta said, a hint of impatience to her voice.

I shook myself out of my inner monologue and took the keychain from her outstretched hand. 

“Thanks,” I told her. “Perhaps its positive powers will counteract the diabetes from the cake.” 

Asta laughed, though I wasn’t sure why. “You’re a weird one, Harry,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. 

She was smiling when she said it, so I assumed she was doing what humans refer to as “kidding around.” This phenomenon always puzzled me. It seemed oxymoronic to insult people as an expression of friendship. However, Asta’s employment of this custom with me seemed to imply that I had made an important progression and had been included in a friend group. I was one of them. 

“You’re the weird one,” I taunted back, doing my best to sound playful. I’m not sure it didn’t come off as awkward since Asta scrunched up her brow as she had the habit of doing, making an eleven between her eyes. 

“I’m gonna go now,” she said. “Enjoy your show.”

“Okay,” I replied, ready to shuffle her out the door. 

She turned though and pressed her lips to my cheek. It wasn’t anything I had not experienced before. The old ladies who came in for check-ups and health screenings at the clinic were constantly mashing their wet, wrinkled lips against my face. At least Asta didn’t drool or smell like Preparation H. 

But then her lips left my cheek and pressed briefly against my mouth. Just a quick brush, hardly a touch, but I backed away, surprised. 

“You kissed me,” I said, stupidly. 

_Duh, Harry!_

“Um… yeah,” she answered, a deep pink blush blooming across her dark skin. 

“Why?”

“I--” she shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said finally. 

There was a long pause where we just stood staring at each other, apparently waiting for some great moment of clarity that was never coming. Human reality is _very_ different from the movies.

“Look,” said Asta at last, “Can we just pretend that never happened? In fact, can we just pretend I didn’t come here?”

I wasn’t sure what good pretending would do. It wasn’t as if an action could be undone by simply refusing to acknowledge that it happened. Was that why Asta had stayed with her husband for such a long time? I wanted to ask her about that. And about gift-giving. And about what it meant to “get busy.”

But instead, I kissed her. 

D'arcy had ever-so-subtly hinted that my kissing was less-than stellar. I simply refuse to allow a race of lizards to outperform me in anything. So, after that initial ill-fated attempt, I had been practicing. I had found an old first aid dummy in a closet and after watching some YouTube how-to videos, I propped the dummy up on the sofa and set about honing my technique against his vinyl lips. After making out with the dummy enough for the humans to consider us in a deep and committed relationship, I felt pretty confident. 

My confidence was shaken by the unforeseen reaction that occurred in my chest and in my trousers when I moved my mouth against Asta’s. I must have blanched because she stared up at me with a look of concern. 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“That never happened with the dummy,” I told her. 

“What?” she asked. She started rambling on about something or other, but I wasn’t paying attention because my heart started pounding and my throat started closing up. I needed air. I was suffocating. 

“I have to go,” I managed to croak. 

“But you live here,” said Asta. 

I didn’t reply, just pushed past her and stumbled out to my truck. I don’t remember much about the trip into town except for the gnawing feeling in my chest that I was about to die, confirmed by the onset of rigor mortis in my pants. I had every intention of driving to the clinic. Imagine my surprise when I found myself standing in front of the counter at _The 59,_ watching as D’arcy cut up lemons and tossed them into a container that I was fairly certain had never seen the inside of a dishwasher. She looked up at me and scowled. 

“Geez, you look like shit, Harry,” she said. “Need a drink?”

“No,” I choked out. “But can I borrow your knife for a moment? I need to give myself a tracheotomy.”

“What the hell are talking about?”

“I’m dying,” I told her as a horrible thought occured to me. “I’ve been poisoned.”

“Oh my god, Harry!” she cried. Her expression implied she was concerned, yet she didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to hand over her lemon knife so I could perform emergency surgery on myself. 

“On the bright side,” I continued, “I know who killed Dr. Sam Hodges.”

“Who?!”

“Asta,” I squeaked, my throat growing tighter at the mere thought of her. “I think perhaps she’s developed a dislike of doctors.”

I pictured her, dark hair falling over her shoulders as she laughed maniacally and carefully frosted an arsenic-laced chocolate fudge cake. 

Another thought occurred to me. Asta had eaten some of the cake too. A piece that I had cut and served her. Unless she was immune to whatever poison she’d used on me, she couldn’t have poisoned the cake. Which brought up thought number three.

“The kiss…” I said, mostly to myself. 

“Wait, what?” said D’arcy, finally dropping the knife. 

I ignored her goggle-eyed gaping, but my stomach dropped into my shoes at the thought of having been done in by a science fiction trope. 

_She’s not a lizard, she’s a praying mantis!_

“Back up,” demanded D’arcy. “You kissed Asta?” 

“Technically, she kissed me first,” I explained. “Though I’m not sure it matters. She must have applied some kind of toxic lipstick. Like Saffron did in that episode of _Firefly._ ”

D’arcy held up her hands. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You and Asta kissed and now you think she’s poisoned you?”

“Yes,” I replied matter-of-factly. “There’s no other way to explain my sudden physical reactions.”

“What reactions?”

“My throat immediately closed up, I began having heart palpitations, and I felt dizzy and disoriented.” I told her. 

D’arcy leaned over the counter and laughed. A lot. When she finally stopped, she wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head at me. 

“My god, Harry,” she snorted. “Are you from another planet?”

“No, of course not.” I replied, adding a chuckle for good measure. “That would be ridiculous.” 

“Well then, you’re totally clueless,” said D’arcy, thunking me on the forehead with her thumb and middle finger. “Here,” she continued, pouring something into a glass and sliding it over to me. “Relax, it’s just water,” she assured me when I recoiled. “Sip it and take a breath,” she instructed. “You’re not dying.”

“I’m not? But my pants…”

“You like Asta,” D’arcy said with a sly smile.

“Of course I like her,” I said between sips. “I’d like her more though if she wasn’t trying to murder me.”

D’arcy threw her head back and groaned. “No, dumbass,” she said. “You _like_ her.” She dropped her voice lower, emphasizing the word “like.”

“What do you mean, I _like_ her?” I mimicked. 

“You know, like all the songs say,” D’arcy explained. “You’re into her. You want to get with her. You wanna hit that. Though honestly, I don’t know why. She’s kind of a dead fish. Me on the other hand…”

I tuned her out and went through the mental catalogue of all the song lyrics I’d heard during my unexpected stay on Earth. Did I really want to take Asta to the candy shop? I wasn’t even sure there was one in town. Or was that a euphemism? I had yet to master those. 

“You want to do the nasty with Asta,” D’arcy taunted, swivelling her hips and gyrating in a way that I can only assume was meant to be provocative.

_Definitely a euphemism._

The door of _The 59_ banged open and Asta rushed in, immediately arousing a fresh feeling of panic as both my throat and my pants tightened simultaneously. 

“Harry,” she cried, plunking down next to me at the bar. “Are you okay?”

D’arcy shot her a grin. “What’ll it be, slut?” she asked. 

Asta ignored her, leaning in toward me so close that I could smell the lingering scent of chocolate frosting on her skin mingled with the mint fragrance of her shampoo. It was a nice smell. Like one of those chocolates that fancy restaurants give you after a meal. 

“Can we talk?” she asked. 

I nodded and she took my arm and led me to the door and out to the street. 

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” she said when we were away from the bar. 

“D’arcy thinks I like you,” I confessed. 

Asta stopped walking and turned to me. “Do you?” she asked.

“I’m not even sure what that means,” I answered honestly. 

Asta smiled, relaxing. “I don’t think anyone does,” she told me. 

We resumed walking, silent for a few minutes before Asta spoke again. “Look,” she began, “I don’t know what your relationships have been like, but most of mine have been shit. I’m not asking or expecting anything from you other than your friendship. If anything else happens, great. If not, that’s okay too.”

I didn’t completely understand what she was trying to say, but I nodded and she seemed pleased. 

“So, we’re good?”

“Yes, I suppose,” I answered. “As long as you’re not trying to kill me.”

“Oh believe me, Harry,” Asta said, leaning close with a gleam in her dark eyes. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

She laughed out loud and continued walking, but I lingered back, my trousers tightening uncomfortably and one thought playing through my head:

_Oh, I definitely want to take her to the damn candy shop._

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**Author's Note:**

> *Gazes lovingly at shiny new fandom* My Preciousssssss...
> 
> Seriously, I am loving this show so far and I want to get in some fanfic sketches before it progresses too much more. I hope you enjoy.  
> Comments, questions and reviews are always appreciated and always responded to personally.  
> ~Fanny~


End file.
